Lost Souls (A Caitlyn O’Connell Novel) by Delilah Devlin Page A

behind her waist.
    “Right.” She cleared her throat. “We have work to do.”
    “You know, you have powers I don’t,” Morin said, tapping his bottom lip with his forefinger. “Perhaps you should try speaking to the dead to find the apprentice.”
    She tilted her head, considering it. “Since ghosts aren’t exactly popping out of closets, a summoning spell?”
    “Do you remember one?”
    “There’s one in my mother’s book. All I need’s a butterfly.” Cait pushed back her chair and rose. Sam’s scraped beside her. “Bye, Morin.”
    “Bye-bye, Caitlyn.” He held out his hand. A small brass key lay across his palm.
    Cait swiped it off and curled her hand. She might need to find him quickly the next time. Better to have the key so she didn’t have to waste time on a locator spell that might not work.
    After one last searching glance and silent thanks, she left the kitchen and strode toward the door. With a twist of the knob, she stepped back into the sunny café alcove.
    Around them the sounds of Beale Street on a hot summer’s day returned in a jarring cacophony.
    No one around them seemed to notice their arrival or the door that hadn’t been there a moment before.
    “No one’s looking this way,” Sam said, his voice gruff. “Why’s that? We just walked through a door that’s not supposed to be here.”
    “It’s not for them to see,” she said, enjoying the deepening frown that darkened his blue-as-the-sky eyes.
    “Would I see the door if I came back without you?”
    Cait shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you should try it sometime.” She blew out a deep breath and glanced around them. “It’s going to be a hike.”
    Sam grunted. “We couldn’t have followed the crows in the car?”
    She flashed him a smile. “Would it have been nearly as much fun?”
    His lopsided grin made her heart skip a beat. Lord, he was a sexy man. Too bad they had work to do.
    A butterfly shouldn’t be that hard to find.

 
    “Are you planning a summer wedding? Or early fall? Keep in mind I can only provide monarchs through November.”
    Sam shot a glare at Cait, who’d been smiling like a giddy bride since the moment they’d arrived at the Paradise Butterfly Farm—or at least like she imagined a giddy bride might smile.
    On Cait, the forced excitement looked strangely maniacal. The vision wasn’t helped by the quick transformation she’d made in the car while driving there. Her long curly hair was confined to a high ponytail. She’d bitten her lips and pinched her pale cheeks to make them pink since she didn’t carry a handbag with cosmetics. The vacant stare and vapid smile wouldn’t have looked amiss on a blonde. He didn’t like it one bit.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Cait said, twirling the end of her ponytail. “I’m not feeling it. Do you have anything rare? Something really special?”
    Mrs. Edelstein’s polite smile faltered. “The silver gulfs have a shorter season, but they would cost you more.”
    No doubt she’d eyed Cait’s well-worn jeans and plain black tank and figured she was the one marrying up. Maybe Mrs. Edelstein figured her daddy’s bank account wouldn’t cover the expense of a butterfly release.
    “I meant, do you have any truly rare butterflies here at all? I’ve been fascinated with butterflies ever since the idea popped into my mind.”
    Mrs. E’s lips tightened just a little more, revealing a hint of annoyance.
    Sam didn’t blame her. She hadn’t expected customers to arrive this late in the day. Cait’s wheedling pleas and hint that she needed “masses and masses” of butterflies to celebrate her wedding had convinced the woman to stay open long enough for them to make the twenty-minute drive to the outskirts of the city, where her “farm” sat on three acres of forested land.
    Middle-aged and with unnaturally dark brown hair and a stout figure, Mrs. E, as she’d told them she preferred to be called, caved beneath the bright expectancy and stubborn charm of